


Charity Case

by waywardweirdo21



Series: My Original Creepypastas [1]
Category: Creepypasta - Fandom, Original Creepypasta - Fandom, Original Female Character - Fandom, original character - Fandom
Genre: Casey Lee Price, Casey Lee Price has ADHD, Casey Lee Price has claustrophobia, Casey is AroAce (Though it doesn’t come up at all in this that is what she is fight me), Creepypasta, Iris Meyers, Iris Meyers is Invisible, Iris Meyers is wonderful, Iris and Casey are best friends, Original Characters - Freeform, Original Creepypasta, Original Female Character - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 17:36:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17771222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waywardweirdo21/pseuds/waywardweirdo21
Summary: char·i·ty casenounINFORMALnoun: charity case; plural noun: charity cases1. a person or group regarded as needing help or financial support.Example: Casey Lee Price





	Charity Case

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Creepypasta and my first post on this site, so please don’t judge me too much. Please be nice and enjoy my Creepypasta story. Thank you.

Casey couldn’t recall when the kids in her class began to call her a charity case. But at the same time she could recall the time before they did, when they called her ‘Case’ like a sweet little friendly nickname. So she supposed they weren’t calling her a charity case, they were calling her Charity Case. Charity Casey. Before didn’t matter to her anymore, though. Before was when she hadn’t met Iris yet. Iris being the girl she knew was sneaking up behind her at the bus stop, she could hear the quiet sound of her footfalls, the soft scuffing of her adidas on the pavement. “I know you’re there, Iris.” She said, cocking an eyebrow and turning to look over her shoulder at her best friend. The caramel skinned girl pouted and went to stand beside her. “How is it that to everyone else I’m practically invisible but you notice me in an instant?” Iris asked, pulling her army jacket tighter over her black and white striped shirt, shivering from the cold. “Mainly because to someone who isn’t an idiot like the rest of the people on this earth, you are in fact painfully obvious.” The dark brown eyed girl winked at her, clearly unaffected by the cold. Casey had always adored the freezing temperatures for some unfathomable reason. Iris rolled her grey-green eyes and scoffed, flicking her unruly black ponytail over her shoulder. “But really, you could never be invisible to me, it’s like, physically impossible for me to not notice you.” The dirty blonde haired girl continued, running her fingers through her tangled shoulder length hair. It was a habit she’d picked up, like braiding the cords of her dark grey hoodie or biting her nails. “And why is that?” Iris asked. “As I said before, you are painfully obvious, but also because everyone has someone they can’t ignore to save their life, you know? You’re that person to me.” She replied, stuffing her hands into her pockets and shifting her footing on her beat-up converses. Iris nodded slowly, but was clearly still unsure. “How about this, ‘you’re my best friend.’ Is that a good enough answer?” Casey added, seeing Iris’ face. She laughed and turned to look down the road. “Where the hell is the bus?” Iris wondered. “I don’t... Ah fuck...” “What?” “It’s Saturday.” “Son of a bitch!” 

***

Casey and Iris drank hot chocolate from mugs as they tried to warm up their practically numb fingers. “So where are you going for winter break?” Casey asked, her leg bouncing. “Grandparent’s house. You?” “We’re packing up shop.” Casey sighed softly. Iris made a strangled noise. “Why do you have to move?” “They think that the quiet out in a rural area will help me.” “But you hate the quiet.” Casey scoffed. “Thanks for speaking the obvious. I think they’re convinced of it since my psychiatrist is insisting on it against everything I say.” “I guarantee he isn’t an actual psychiatrist, he probably just reads health articles and uses that as his base for advice.” “You’re probably right.” Casey nodded in agreement and they continued to drink the fuming concoction. 

***

The Friday before winter break was the last day they would see each other in person for a while, so they hugged each other tightly and promised it wouldn’t be long. And they were right. It was only one week into the break that they met again. But of course, as completely different people than before.

***

The drive to their new house only took a couple hours, and Casey sat back with her grey headphones pulled over her ears. Rock music blasted through them, leaving her with a moments respite amongst the sound of a guitar being shredded into oblivion while Lzzy Hale’s voice boomed. She grinned to herself. Then she looked up at the mirror where her mother was giving her a stern look. Casey sighed and turned the music off, pulling her headphones around her neck.

***

Casey had finished unpacking all that she had, the moving truck would come by in about an hour to give them the rest. She laid out on her bed, her leg quaking like earlier. It was a miracle she’d lasted the rest of the trip without her music, she had claustrophobia for days and her need to move around and fidget didn’t help either. She groaned and sat up, hearing the sound of a truck pull into the gravel driveway. She slid off her bed, but paused when a she noticed a soft buzzing. She supposed it had been there for a while, she just hadn’t noticed. She decided to ignore it for the moment and pulled on her converse before going out to help her parents. 

***

They had loaded all of the boxes into the living room. Casey’s dad, Adam, pressed a box into her arms and told her to put it in the kitchen. She did as she was told, and did the same for about ten more boxes. She came back into the living room and saw her mother unpacking the coffee table. “Go and unpack in the garage.” Lola told her. She nodded and wordlessly made her way back down into the garage. It was filled with empty shelves and hooks, and of course about a hundred moving boxes. She huffed, rolled up the sleeves of her hoodie, and began to work. 

***

The buzzing had gotten more noticeable in the echoey quiet of the garage, and if she had her way music would be blaring from speakers in every corner while a man worked a jack hammer next door, but beggars can’t be choosers she supposed. She had unloaded about twenty different tools, a million Christmas decorations, and several random jars full of nails, paper clips, and other little things. “Why do we even have these?” She mumbled beneath her breath. She began to sort them on the walls and shelves. She put the hammers and shovels on the hooks, the jars and decorations on the shelves. She was having a rather tough time trying to find a place for her dad’s sledgehammer. He barely used it, why would he even keep it? She decided to just lean it against a plastic storage container. She winced when she once again noticed a faint buzzing in the quiet of her house. She could hear the faint sound of her mother chopping meat in the kitchen, and a weirdly faint thumping coming from that direction. She stood for a moment, contemplating it, before wincing absently and going back into the house. 

***

At dinner Casey’s leg bounced under the table, as did her right shoulder occasionally twitch. She cracked her knuckles against her knee and ate with only one hand, picking at her pieces of chicken and her green beans. She ate very little that night, she focused solely on getting the buzzing to quiet down, but it only seemed to get louder, as did the two strange thumping sounds coming from her parents. She winced. Her parents looked at her with concern, but silently wrote it off as moving jitters.

***

That night she laid in bed, completely clothed, not bothering to take off her hoodie or her shoes. That would require taking her hands away from where they were clapped over her ears, and she knew she couldn’t do that. The buzzing was so loud it made her dizzy. She was seeing black spots as the thumping she could hear from down the hall where her parents slept escalated into thunderous banging. She could hear the grasshoppers chirping outside, but it sounded like screaming. The soft drizzle sounded like cannon fire as it hit the earth. She shook and convulsed, her eyes welling with tears as she silently begged for it to stop. Then, as if by their own accord, her feet flew off the bed and onto the floor. She stood, swaying and stumbling as the world spun violently around her and the noises boomed in her ears. Her vision was overcome with black spots, so when she felt the ground come up to meet her with a crash on the garage floor after she tripped down the stairs, she was just as surprised as her parents who had woke with a start. But Casey could barely feel her scraped and bleeding knees and elbows. She was just on autopilot. The crash had made the noise drop a few octaves. She began to smash jars and containers, making as much noise as she could, oblivious to the thumping of feet down the hall. She picked up the sledgehammer and started to work on a storage unit. She couldn’t hear her parents screaming at her to stop from the stairs, and she couldn’t hear the sound of her father behind her. She’d just turned on her heel to demolish another container, when she heard a thud. She realized, as she heard the tear of his brain tissue and his skull crack open, that the thumping she’d heard was his heartbeat. Her mother shrieked in rage and grief, declaring in her head that this was not her daughter, and made a start towards Casey, a knife in hand. But Casey sidestepped her and slammed the head of the hammer into her mother’s lower back. She continued to bring the hammer down repeatedly on her mother’s body. She had only paused at the heartbeat stopping, when she realized the buzzing had completely faded. That sound, the sound of tearing flesh and cracking bone into splinters... that was the sound she needed. She hefted her hammer across her shoulders and stumbled out of the side door. She trudged down their driveway, ignoring the stinging from her arms and knees. Her hoodie hadn’t been damaged because of her sleeves being rolled up, but her jeans were torn and bloodstained. She sighed and continued down the path, noting a faint static at the back of her head. She could hear the soft thumping of a heartbeat down the road. Several, actually, she continued down that way, having decided who she had to kill next. Damn she needed help. But that was quite obvious, considering she was a charity case. She laughed softly to herself and walked into the dark.


End file.
